


Vindication

by squiggly_squid



Series: Idiosyncratic Assassin [8]
Category: Mass Effect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 08:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8048542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiggly_squid/pseuds/squiggly_squid
Summary: Ares finally hunts down the man who left him for dead.  He won't make that same mistake.





	Vindication

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: This fic includes descriptions of gore and body disfigurement.

Like kindling ready for a spark, Ares waits in the dark recesses of the catwalks spanning over the cavernous maintenance corridors, empty save for the single Keeper clicking away at a terminal far above his head. A heavy stench wafts through the air from the protein vats below and burns within his nose, but it is not enough to deter him from his intentions. He has endured much worse than odor in order to come this far.

He still knows the protocols and coded messages he will need for what he plans, knows exactly what will raise suspicions and what will convince even the veterans of the field. Where he’d once feel concerned of his people still using the same techniques and opening themselves to infiltration like he’s planning, he now feels nothing but the rush of anticipation as he opens his Omni-Tool and begins to type. Let the Hierarchy’s mistake of not updating their tactics be to his benefit. It will be their downfall that they never thought of the open access they were giving a freelancer that they had no clue knew them from the inside.

‘ _Operative 1408-7842_ ,’ he types into his Tool, using the encrypted codes and Extranet Protocol address attached to the assassin’s Zakera Ward handler that he implemented into his tech. ‘ _There are no vacancies._ ’ Code for: Your safe house has been compromised.

The reply is quick, much to Ares’ pleasure. ‘ _Are our plans still on_?’ Is my target still in play?

There is a human saying about a fly within a spider’s web and he has to admit that is all too appropriate in this moment. Without any knowledge of the trap he is being led into, Ares’ prey is all but stuck. He will follow the false orders without ever feeling the spider’s venom until it is too late.

 _‘You can have my room_.’ Yes. ‘ _But I need to give you the key.’_ However, parameters have changed. ‘ _Meet me here_.’

Ares sends the coordinates for this maintenance tunnel to his target, knowing he will follow the orders under the false assumption that he will be doing nothing more but receiving an updated dossier for his own hunt. A hunt that he will never complete.

‘ _I’ll be there_.’ Understood.

Closing his Tool, Ares cracks his neck and relaxes against the wall. It will be a short time before his prey enters the field of the hunt and he will use that to clear his mind, calm his rushing blood, and steady his hands. He has waited years for this moment and he will not rush it. He wasn't offered a quick end, so he is damn sure he won’t grant the same in return.

Not when the man is none other than Darius Cameric, the man that left him to burn away to ashes in the inferno of that damn mining facility. He thinks Ares is a dead man and that’s fine, for even dead men can want for revenge, and it’s revenge he will have.

So he waits, in the dark cold of the catwalks with nothing but the click-clack of terminal keys and smell of organic refuge dissolving within the protein vats. His hand lays on the handle of a blade peaking from a hidden pocket on his thigh and he taps his talons mindlessly against the charred and tarnished polymer grip. This blade has both damned and aided him in the years, but he feels it is time to return it to its rightful owner. _He must be missing it greatly._

Ares must admit that he is actually impressed that Cameric, once a youngblood without any hunts under his belt, takes the time to most likely scope out and black out the area. Not that he really needs to bother with disabling the cameras after Ares’ Tool runs constant interference. Ares also doesn't fear Cameric finding his position here in the shadows because he can tell the man is still so young in terms of hunting.

He has an energy of arrogance, of pride from never failing a mission. Ares blames his own people for instilling this false sense of safety within his target, for making this hunt easier for him, but he won't let this chance slip by just because there won’t be as big a challenge as he’d have liked. This may even be the perfect situation for what he plans, a ghost from the past Cameric thought swallowed by flames here to return the favor, and ensure death actually takes one of them this time.

Darius being in full armor doesn’t deter Ares all that much, not when he knows the weaknesses of the Blackwatch armor down to the exact model he wears. Built for both protection, silence, and ease of movement, the suit consists of a multitude of pieces interweaving and latching together to become one fluid, yet strong protection. It’s close to what he used to wear, but he learned fast that it was no better than any other armor when put to the flame and it will not save his kill from the blade.

Or from what will come next.

Stepping out of the shadows, his hood hides enough of his face that his scars are not revealed and his posture is adjusted into one of arrogance and confidence. Cameric sees him and relaxes, falling for the image of a man he automatically assumes is his handler for this mission. A foolish mistake and one that will end with his life, but not one that immediately marks the man as a fool. No, Cameric is merely too comfortable with the fact that no one but those of the Hierarchy would know the tells, the codes, and the unspoken clues. He has no idea that a former member of the very order stands before him, holds his life in their hands.

“Mind telling me what happened?” Cameric all but demands with his rumbling tone and narrowed eyes. Even in the dim lighting of this area, Ares can see the irritation on the face of a man that is not used to things going wrong, of one who is used to all his missions flowing smoothly towards his own success.

“Unforeseen circumstances.”

Darius sighs and leans a hip on the railing, crossing his arms. “Why am I not surprised. Your job is to get me somewhere to lay low and out of the public eye. Spirits, you aren’t even having to do the hard work.” Shaking his head, he growls lightly and turns to lean his hands on the railing to look over. He takes a deep breath and tries again. “Look. I’ve had a long flight on a different transport thanks to my handler from Invictus messing up my departure. I’m in a hurry and need somewhere to start preparing. Can you set me up with something?”

Nodding, Ares steps closer, as if to lean on the railing beside him. This way, if this was ever going to go as Cameric planned, Ares would just have to pass the information over without it looking like anything more than two people overlooking the strange vats below. “I can. How fast do you need it?”

Cameric, the idiot, doesn’t even look over. Definitely training to keep distant from handlers and informants, no doubt, but it only proves his downfall. “Immediately. Tell me you can do that.”

Ares hums as if in thought and stands up in the guise of looking at his Tool for something to give the man. He takes a step to pace and speaks over the soft whisper of the blade. “I might have something, yeah. Here.” In a flash, he strikes, wrapping an arm around Cameric’s neck, pulling him upright, and rams the sharpened blade through the separation of two back plates right into the man’s spine. “Let me show you.”

Darius jerks and gasps, the stunned sound turning into a snarl as the pain of the knife radiates up his back and his legs grow weak for a split moment. “You fucking-!”

Yanking his head back with the grip on the man’s neck, Ares twists the knife and takes delight in the whining keen of pain. Cameric moves to reach for his weapon, free hand grabbing Ares’ arm and sinking talons in through the sleeve of his jacket. The pain is muted, a dull ache, but he lets the man shift in his hold. He wants to see recognition in his eyes before he finishes this.

Hissing a growl, Cameric spins and raises his weapon as Ares turns aside from the pistol swinging around, the man’s moves slow because of the knife in his back. Ares uses the moment to strike, grabbing the wrist before him in a tight grip and sinks his talons into the gap between glove and gauntlet. Ducking under as he wrenches the arm over his own head, Ares locks Cameric’s arm in a rigid hold he cannot break without breaking bones. There is a split moment of shock run through the smaller man before Ares throws forward a flattened palm into Darius’ elbow, smirking with a rumble when he hears the sickening crack.

Cameric shouts in pain, weapon falling from a limp hand to skitter over the metal catwalk and over the edge. Stumbling, he can only block the punch to his face before swinging his own knee into Ares’ unguarded waist, but gets nothing more than an annoyed grunt. Scars have healed thick and numb over those places, so the move doesn't hurt as it would any other turian, but the fact doesn’t sink in until it’s too late and Ares charges forward to wrap both hands around Cameric’s neck.

Coughing and growling, one hand tries to claw at the vices holding the younger man’s throat before trying to swing at the hidden face. Ares can tell the moves are weakening as Cameric loses breath, but he doesn't want the man to be unconscious for this so he loosens his hold. The sound of a coughing gasp echoes through the tunnel as talons manage to catch on the hood and rip it off, green eyes widening at the sight before him.

“Wh...who?” Cameric gasps out, hand returning to clawing at the hands on his neck frantically, as if the sight before him could draw his breath faster than the talons around his throat.

“Don’t remember the man you stabbed in the back, Cameric?” Snarling, he uses his body to press the smaller turian against the waist high security railing at his back. “Too afraid to see the man you had a hand in creating?” He snaps in question when those two green eyes try to divert away from Ares’ own white and blue.

Realization dawns with a widening of eyes, dropping of elegantly painted mandibles, and trilling pierce of vocals. For a moment, Darius forgets to struggle as he looks Ares right in the eyes and gapes. “S...Sirus Va-”

Quick as a flash, Ares headbutts the man, cracking open the fawn colored male’s nose. “Don’t ever say that name!” He roars, sinking talons into the hide beneath his scarred fingers. “That man is dead.” Grinning in sick delight, he shifts his hold to the front of Cameric’s armor, almost caressing it. “And you’ll be joining him.”

Not even giving that declaration a chance to sink in, Ares scowls with a vicious rumble and shoves Cameric over the safety barrier. An unbroken hand sinks talons into his jacket, but the fabric has no chance against the force of gravity on the heavily armored turian and rips into shreds. A long, drawn out wail sounds down the corridor as the young turian falls, the sound cut off by the loud splash of his body hitting the acidic fluids within the vats below and quickly replaced by the horrific howls of agony.

The sound is like music to his ears as Ares leans his crossed arms on the railing, smiling as he tilts his head to watch the man below. Cameric flails at the edge of the water, plates bubbling and popping to emit little pockets of steam as the light brown color turns a sickly white and sloughs off. Hide dissolves faster, thinning in an instant to release the fresh, deep blue of blood that just as quickly begins to disappear within the he pale liquid. Even the smell doesn’t deter Ares as he rumbles in satisfaction over the screams below gurgling and sputtering as mandibles fall from the face below and arms flail a final time before the body goes under one final time.

Chuckling, he gives a mock salute to the man and stands straight. He has hunted and killed his longest standing target and though it won’t make the scars go away, he is damn satisfied with the fact that at least one of the two of them actually managed to close out their kill contract. Even if the contract on Cameric was a personal one.


End file.
